


DC Drabble Collection

by vitious



Series: Tumblr Drabble Collection [2]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitious/pseuds/vitious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DCU Drabbles from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. BruDick - DaddyKink

Bruce had always known just what to do and say to turn Dick into a trembling, needy mess.  He knew just the right tone of voice to use, how the rough drag of stubble along Dick’s jaw made him moan, how his thighs had always been overly sensitive, exploiting everything he knew frequently.  However, over the years, that knowledge had stopped being quite so one-sidded, leaving Dick horribly smug every time he did something that made Bruce growl and get just a little bit more rough, a little more desperate.  Bruce was full of surprises when it came to sex and Dick’s latest discovery was actually one of the more tame ones.

Dick had honestly said it by accident, whispering it breathlessly against the side of Bruce’s neck as he slowly sank down on Bruce’s length.  He always tended to get a little overwhelmed in the heat of the moment, whispering and moaning filthy gibberish, but that one word had made Bruce’s fingers dig into his hips, resulting in a low, choked moan from the acrobat.  With a shuddering exhaled, Dick drew back, his fingertips dragging over Bruce’s chest, a small, amused grin tugging at his lips even as he rolled his hips a little against Bruce’s vice-like grip.

"Wow." Dick breathed, his eyes fluttering a little.  "Never pegged you for the type.  Suppose I should have."

"Dick—" Bruce began, looking flustered and oddly vulnerable; Dick would bet his right arm that there was some shame mixed in there.

Dick pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Bruce’s mouth, rocking his hips once more and moaning. “I don’t mind.  Trust me.”

Instead of responding, Bruce’s hands slid over Dick’s trembling thighs, resulting in a soft gasp.  Dick curled his arms around Bruce’s neck, pressing his mouth against the older man’s ear as he slowly lifted his hips and pressed them back down, letting out a low moan.  Bruce was big, leaving Dick full and making every movement feel better than it honestly should have, but that didn’t keep him from focusing on his new discovery.  It didn’t stop him from wanting to test just how quickly Bruce’s control would unravel.

"Daddy…" Dick breathed as he lifted his hips and slammed back down again, his words turning into a desperate whine towards the end.  "Please, Daddy, fuck me."

“ _Dick._ " Bruce’s voice is strained, his fingers digging into and dragging over Dick’s thighs.

 _Just a little more and…_ “Daddy, you’re so big.”

Bruce shuddered, going completely still for a long moment, his hands almost painful, most likely leaving finger-shaped brusies on his skin.  Dick licked his lips and rolled his hips again, not stopping this time, moaning as he rocked against the larger man, one of his hands moving to tangle in Bruce’s short hair.  Bruce was close to snapping, close to losing his hold on that finely tuned control that he had trained for years to maintain, the control that Dick loathed when he brought it to the bedroom.

"You feel so good inside me, Daddy." Dick breathed, his voice low and thick with arousal. "Please, Daddy I want—"

Bruce surged up, sending Dick falling backwards onto the bed with a low moan as he shifted, his legs wrapping around Bruce’s waist, as he Bruce loomed over him; he’d managed to stay inside the other man the entire time, too, something that made Dick shudder. “ _Tell me._ ”

Dick felt as if he’d struck gold.


	2. BruDick - Hurt/Comfort

It had been a long night.  Dick hurt in all the worst possible places, making the ride back to the cave on his bike torturous.  When he pulled in and parked he had to sit for a moment before he could climb off his bike and, when he did, it was with a pained hiss. He pulled off his helmet and carefully set it down on the seat of the vehicle; he was worried that he’d drop it otherwise.  Exhaustion was beginning to weigh down his limbs, the simple act of running his fingers through his hair incredibly difficult.

A familiar, dark shape entered the edge of his field of vision, causing him to turn his head and offer Bruce a tired smile.  He was still fully clad in his suit, sans cowl, and his brows knit together as he took in the appearance of the acrobat before him.  Dick knew that he had to look terrible; he was covered in dirt and grime, his suit was torn in a few places, and he had a few mild abrasions caused by sliding across asphalt.    However what Bruce _couldn’t_ see was the huge amounts of bruising hidden underneath the suit, bruising which had started to darken already he was sure and that was making moving painful.

"Dick." Bruce greeted, stepping forward, his brown deepening. "You look horrible."

"You know just what to say to a girl." Dick teased softly, his hand resting on his motorcycle, using it to support himself; why was he so tired?

"You should have Alfred—"

"I treated everything already, Bruce.  Calm down.  Just give me some pain killers and a soft bed and I’ll be fine."

"Dick—" Bruce began, brows pinching in worry and determination.

"Bruce, seriously, I’m exhausted.  I don’t have a head injury, I just need to be off my feet and sleeping." Dick hesitantly took a few steps forward, wobbling only a little. "C’mon.  You haven’t seen me in months.  You can’t tell me you’re going to pass up an opportunity to get me into your bed."

Bruce heaved a great, gusting sigh and he reached out, gripping Dick’s upper arm to steady him. “I was hoping that when I did you wouldn’t be injured.”

"It’s just bruising and soreness.  Promise." Dick promised, lifting his hand to weakly pat Bruce’s hand. "Help me upstairs?"

Bruce stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few moments before sighing heavily and nodding, reaching for him. “Fine.”

"No carrying. Just…" Dick guided Bruce’s arm around his waist to a spot that hurt the least and looped an arm around the older man’s shoulders. "There."

Dick could have sworn that he saw Bruce roll his eyes, but couldn’t bring himself to care, not when he was focusing on walking and trying to ignore the pain each step caused.  Somehow they managed to get upstairs, managed to get inside Bruce’s room, but Alfred beat them to the top, holding a tray with a glass of water and painkillers.  Dick managed an amused yet suspicious look as Alfred entered the room ahead of them and set the tray down ; sometimes he wondered if the butler was psychic.

"Thanks, Alfred." Dick breathed, slowly extracting himself from Bruce’s arms, albeit reluctantly. 

"Do try to get some rest, Master Richard.  Also, perhaps you should avoid further… Incendiary confrontations." Alfred gave Dick a knowing look before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. 

Alfred knew what had happened, which meant that Bruce knew what had happened.  Oops.

"I promise it’s really not that bad." Dick reassured, looking sheepish as Bruce’s fingers drew down the zipper of his suit. "I’ve had worse."

Dick tugged off his gloves before wincing at the breath Bruce sucked in when he saw his back. “Dick…”

"I know.  It looks pretty gross, huh?" Dick murmured, doing his best to wriggle out of his suit.

Bruce doesn’t answer.  Instead he leans in and presses his mouth to Dick’s shoulder, the touch tender, and his hands gently curl around Dick’s upper arms.  Eyes going heavy-lidded, Dick leans back into his hold, letting Bruce support him as the older man buried his face in the crook of Dick’s neck.  It was rare for Bruce to show such large amounts of concern but, then again, it had been a while since Dick had been too hurt to smile properly he supposed.

"I’ll be okay." Dick reassured, reaching up to gently run his fingers through Bruce’s hair.

Brue’s hands slid down his arms then moved to gently curl around his hips, his moves slow and careful, as if he was worried Dick might break any moment. “Bed.”

Dick chuckled, slowly turning in Bruce’s hold to run his fingers over his still-armored chest. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you with all this still on you.”

"I was going to let you rest." Bruce murmured, resulting in and exasperated look from Dick.

Dick slid his arms around the back of the suit, drawing down the zipper to in, pressing his cheek to Bruce’s collarbone. “Leaving me alone in this big bed while I’m hurt isn’t very nice, Bruce.”

Bruce grunted, his shoulders slumping a little as he removed his gauntlets and tossed them aside, letting Dick fumble while removing the top of his suit.  Once it slid from his arms and torso, Bruce lifted his hands and cupped Dick’s cheeks in his hands, the acrobats eyelashes fluttering as he leaned into the contact.  More often than not they went weeks or months without seeing one another, so it made Dick incredibly unhappy that he was this close to Bruce and was too injured to really do much about it.

"Sorry." Dick muttered, glancing aside, even as he smiled. "I promise next time I’ll come home in better shape."

"Hush." Bruce breathed, gently pressing their lips together.

Dick let out a happy hum, his hands resting on Bruce’s chest for support, and returned the kiss.  Their languid pace made warmth rise in his chest, made him feel cared for, and he cherished every moment of it.  When they broke away, Bruce reached for the water and pills on the nightstand and offered them to Dick, arching a brow.

"Painkillers, then bed." Bruce instructed, watching Dick as the acrobat laughed softly and took the medication.

"So pushy." he breathed, pressing a few tired, affectionate kisses to Bruce’s stubble-rough jaw.

"I’m pushy?" Bruce’s brows lifted in disbelief which made Dick laugh again.

"Yes." Dick murmured, leaning in to nuzzle the older man’s neck. "Just the way I like you."


	3. JayDickTimDami - Vampires

When Tim and Dick had changed, nothing had seemed different at first. They had both been obviously and rightfully upset, but had adjusted eventually, finding ways to live with their new state, and had moved on. However as they settled into their new lifestyles, things gradually began to change, too slowly to really say when the changes began, but had left them considering what they were currently engaging in to be normal. Briefly, Damian wondered when he and Jason had succumbed to the wills of their nocturnal partners.

Dick’s lips were pressing gentle kisses against the side of his neck, his tongue gently laving over the skin there. Once, many years before, it wouldn’t have made Damian’s eyes flutter or made him moan, made him submit entirely to the older man’s whim. However he had grown to crave the feel of fangs sinking into his flesh, crave the taste of blood on his partner’s lips. Thus, when he felt the sharp, pinching pain of those fangs pressing into his flesh, Damian moaned and arched, his eyes clenching shut. Next to him Jason moaned, drawing his attention, noting that Tim had opted to slake other, more carnal, hungers before actually feeding. Tim had always had more control of the hunger than Dick did, which simply meant that his control over Jason was absolute, leaving Jason submitting to him shamelessly and without restraint.

Dick drew away, apparently having had his fill, and pressed gentle kisses across the puncture marks, then across Damian’s collarbone. It always felt better after the feeding for some reason, leaving Damian clutching at Dick’s naked shoulders and shuddering, the heated moans coming from the other side of the bed simply stoking his desire. Gentle hands cupped Damian’s face as Dick lifted his head, his lips oddly clean, devoid of any smear of crimson, as he leaned in, pressing gentle kisses to Damian’s mouth.

"Remember when we first did this? You were so young…" Dick breathed, laughing softly to himself, before his hand slid down Damian’s torso.

"Yes. Things were… Different." Damian admitted, resisting to glance over when he noticed that Jason and Tim had fallen silent.

Dick’s eyes were sad even as his fingers curled around Damian’s cock, dragging a soft moan from the teenager’s throat. “I didn’t want things to change…”

Feeling a pang of guilt, Damian reached out, his arms curling around Dick’s neck, his fingers playing with the short hairs on the back of the other man’s neck. “I know, Grayson. Just… Touch me.”

Dick began to stroke, his pace slow and hesitant, his eyes heavy lidded. “I… You know you don’t have to do this, Dami… Right?”

Yes, I do. “I know, Grayson.”

Dick offered him a small smile and leaned in to nuzzle his neck, giving him a chance to look over at Jason and Tim. Jason’s eyes were barely open, but they were fixed on him, his arm stretched innocently across the bed as Tim fed from him. Damian slowly, hesitantly, reached across the bed and wrapped his fingers around Jason’s noting how the digit’s spasmed then clutched at his desperately. Jason was still in there, somewhere, biding his time until sunrise, until he could escape for a few hours, before the craving returned, before the compulsion returned with a force that buckled knees and twisted one’s insides. Dick said that he didn’t have to do what he did, that he and Jason were free to leave, but they all knew that it was far too late for that.


	4. TimDami - Sensitivity

Damian should have hated feeling so helpless, feeling too big for his skin and as if every nerve ending in his body was alight.  That didn’t keep his breath coming in short, ragged gasps even as he fought to, and failed to, remain still.  His thighs were trembling and his shoulders ached from having his hands bound behind him for too long; that could be dealt with later.

He jolted and made a low, strangled noise when fingers suddenly ran through his hair, causing him to lean desperately into the touch.  It felt like had been hours since he’d been touched when, most likely, it had only been a few minutes. There was a soft chuckle from above him, the sound smug and husky, sending arousal rolling down his spine, making him shudder and bite his lip.  
  
"My.  Aren’t you in bad shape." Tim breathed, sounding amused as he drew Damian’s face forward, pressing it against the front of his slacks. "You still haven’t earned your keep this evening, however."  
  
Damian clenched his eyes behind the silk tie Tim had used to blindfold him, shame making his cheeks flush and his cock ache.  However the feeling was quickly washed away by a wave of stubborn determination that made Damian nuzzle the front of the older man’s slacks, searching for the concealed fasten that Tim had insisted he learn how to undo without his hands.  Swallowing thickly, Damian leaned in and bit the fabric, using teeth and tongue to unfasten it, then the button.  Next he bit down on the tiny zipper and drew it down before eagerly pressing his face between the strips of fabric, nuzzling the exposed skin, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the smell of the man’s arousal; he’d come to crave it over the years.  
  
If one would have told Damian’s teenage self that he have found pleasure in servicing Tim Drake’s every carnal desire he would have scoffed and looked offended, insisting that he would never lower himself to such things.  However Tim had grown into a powerful and commanding presence over the years and Damian’s  world had grown steadily more and more unstable, causing him to crave direction, to crave control.  Thus when Tim had gently coaxed Damian into his bed, then slowly into submission, the younger man had gone almost eagerly, relinquishing control in favor of forgetting how tumultuous and complicated everything had become.   
  
"Another bad day, I see." Tim mused softly, gently stroking Damian’s hair, the action soothing. "You need this, don’t you?"   
  
Damian nodded, swallowing thickly when he felt Tim draw his slacks down to his thighs.  There was only a moment of hesitation before Damian nosed at the base of Tim’s cock, rubbing his cheek against the coarse curls of the older man’s pubic hair as he moved to mouth at Tim’s slowly thickening length.  Tim could control his arousal as easily as he controlled every other aspect of his life, only using it when necessary, and that very control made Damian let out a soft, quivering moan.  He ran his tongue over the other man’s cock almost reverently, savoring the taste of him, before beginning to take him into his mouth, sucking eagerly.  Damian felt the tension gradually bleed out of him, shivering with every gentle stroke of Tim’s hand through his hair; this where where he belonged, where he didn’t have to worry about what was expected of him, and cherished every moment in which he was allowed to have everything Tim could provide.


	5. JayDick - Buried Alive

It had to be a dream.  Everything was so familiar, the sensations and darkness familiar in the way that every stab and bullet wound he’d stitched shut himself were familiar.  Moments of pain and trauma tended to linger in one’s memory with far more clarity than moments of joy or pleasure seemed to and, in that moment, he hated his mind for this all-too-vivid dream that it had decided to plague him with.

There were things that alerted him to the fact that he was deluding himself by thinking that what he was experiencing was anything but reality, however.  One was that it wasn’t wood or the padding of a coffin that his hands touched when he felt about in the darkness.  No, it was metal, bitterly cool to the touch and letting out a dull clang when he struck it with his fist.  It was the dullness, the sense that sound was being muffled by something against the metal, that made the first tendrils of panic curl around his gut and twist.

Swallowing back his rising dread Jason shifted, continuing to feel around the container he was in.  It wasn’t as cramped as a coffin, feeling almost like a small shipping container as opposed to something like a locker.  This gave him enough space to shift a little and get his legs into a position where he could kick at the top of the container he was in, something which made him wince immediately; it hardly budged at all, the impact reverberating through the bones in his legs, pain lancing through them.

"Shit." he swore, trying again, this time resulting in the soft sound of soil pouring into the containing, dribbling across the bottom of the container.

Jason froze then, the sound making memories of earth, worms, and broken fingernails, making his breathing quicken immediately.  Bile rose in his throat and he kicked at the lid of the container, his panic winning over the rational part of him that told him he was expending valuable oxygen.  However a shrill crackle in his ear suddenly made him pause, his chest heaving as he reached a trembling hand to his earpiece; he couldn’t believe that it was still there, that it hadn’t been stripped from him by whoever had tossed him in the crate to begin with.  It was only then that he realized that his helmet was gone, something which told him that he’d been far less composed than he’d thought when he’d regained consciousness.

"H-Hood." Jason gasped out, trying to will himself to calm down.

"Jason."  Dick’s voice was relieved, the sound of it, oddly, making Jason’s shoulders sag. "We’re digging you out, okay?"

Jason would never admit it but simply hearing Nightwing’s voice, despite their tumultuous past, made a wave of relief roll through him. “Got it.”

"We’ve got you, Jaybird."

"Hurry up, Dickie."

**Author's Note:**

> http://vitious.tumblr.com


End file.
